What May Turn Ice into Fire
by Ellen Fitzwilliam Brandybuck
Summary: "How had this happened",Jaq thought moments before the arrow was released."How had a routine patrol shift into the massacre of her men?"She kept her eyes open,wanting to stare down death,and watched the creature's hand pull back the bowstring. Before he could release it Jaq heard the whoosh of another arrow and turned to see mysterious figures coming through the trees OC/Multiple
1. The Fireteam

_This takes place before the book/movie. Rated for violence and future sexuality._

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"Corporal, what is our situation?"

Though she couldn't see him through the thick foliage of the trees, Jaq knew her AAR assist Bulldog was up there. He'd left his pack at the foot of the tree in order to better shimmy up it. They'd had quite a few laughs watching him slip and curse his way up it, his combat boots providing little traction against the smooth bark of the giant beech tree. His flak armor had gotten in his way numerous times and so half way up he'd requested permission to discard it; she'd ignored the request and told him to stop climbing like a school girl.

She'd chosen Bulldog since a) he'd been bragging about his stellar climbing skills ever since he'd gotten back from leave and b) it was his turn to take the "shit" for the team. Jaq made sure they rotated out the "shit" jobs and Turkey had been quick to remind her that it was Bulldog's turn.

"Situation normal, captain." Bulldog's voice was faint and when Jaq moved closer to the base of the tree and looked up she could only barely make out the shape of her assist he was so far up into the canopy. "All fucked up."

Jaq tensed and released her fingers inside her gloves, the material creaking slightly from the movement, "Can you see any familiar markers?" She glanced over her shoulders towards her other fireteam members before looking back up towards Bulldog. "Any sign of the others?"

After a pause Bulldog called back down, "No ma'am, there is no sign of the others. This forest seems to go on for miles; I can't see the edge of it in any direction."

"Is he using his gun sight?" Her DAR rifleman spoke up from behind her, his voice sounding strangely muffled. "It'd be just like him to forget his gun sight down here."

Jaq looked over and frowned, "Hey don't eat anymore of those." Jaq pointed at the chocolate from his last energy bar still around his lips. "We don't know how long we'll be out here now that the situation's gone FUBAR on us."

Turkey nodded as he rolled up the wrapper and shoved it back into his day pack from where it hung from his flak vest. They all had day packs attached by a system of carabineers, but his was especially full of energy bars-and wrappers considering the rate he ate them. He'd shoved his M249 behind his back, the barrel of the machine gun awkwardly pointing towards the sky as it hung from his three-point sling. Her grenadier Razor readjusted the M203 in his hands, reached out and swatted Turkey's arm.

"Thanks man." He glared at Turkey. "I wanted one too."

Jaq shook her head and left the two to duke out their issues and instead returned her attention to the trees. Jaq couldn't put her finger on why the forest made her so uncomfortable. It could be the fact that the forest was so dark, murky almost, that Jaq had had to pull out her night vision goggles earlier. She'd heard the others do the same from where they'd trailed along behind her. It had made the going much easier and there hadn't been near as much stumbling once that they could see properly. Never before had she encountered a forest of such darkness, and she'd grown up in wild forests of Colorado.

But the eerie darkness aside, it could also be the fact that they were so isolated, seemingly cut off from the rest of their war game. That was what they'd been on patrol for, a simulated war game; the "graduation" ceremony for her fireteam before they were shipped off to the frontlines. None of her team had seen actual firefights—and she wished she hadn't seen near as many as she'd already had- and so as had become standard processing, they'd had to undergo their present war game simulation.

Their standard MARPAT uniform afforded them some camouflage in the strange forest surroundings and because of such she almost didn't notice that Bulldog had shimmied quite a ways down the tree just in the time it'd taken Razor to hit Turkey and her own thoughts to wander.

"Razor," Jaq looked back to her grenadier, "try headquarters again and Turkey double check your GPS."

She heard Bulldog drop down behind her and she glanced back to see him haul his pack back onto his shoulders. She gave him a nod of approval before signaling for him to check the perimeter one more time. They were standing in the closest thing to a clearing that they'd found within the past two hours of wandering in the damned forest and she wasn't about to be caught with their guard down if it happened to be a trap.

"Headquarters isn't responding." Razor paused and scratched the back of his head. "And it's weird ma'am, but there's no radio traffic, nothing whatsoever. Not even satellite static. It's almost as if, well Captain, and I know this sounds crazy, but it's almost as if there are no other radios within the normal radius, as if there are no satellites to interfere with transmission."

Turkey shook the device in his hand then growled, "The GPS is still not responding ma'am. It isn't reading anything, much like what Razor said, as if there were no satellites to connect to."

Jaq studied her watch for a moment and the compass that sat within it. She pointed to the left, "That's north. Before the fog disoriented us, we'd been headed back towards headquarters and according to our last position it should still be just north of us."

She'd been just about to order a move out when Bulldog suddenly let out a cry of alarm and threw himself back into the clearing, his body sprawling on the ground nearby. Jaq was thankful for her elbow and knee pads when she dropped to the ground and rolled for cover underneath a nearby fern, Turkey and Razor quickly doing the same on the other side of the clearing, near some rocks. There was only so much dropping into a defensive position she could take without her pads.

When she looked over at Bulldog to check his status, Jaq felt a wave of nausea consume her after her initial shock and confusion. Bulldog was staring blankly at her as he lay on his stomach, blood seeping from his open mouth, a grizzly looking arrow embedded in his neck. She'd seen death enough to know that he no longer lived but that didn't stop her anger and confusion. This was supposed to be a war game damnit!

"What-" her question was cut off when the undergrowth seemed to suddenly erupt with movement.

About a half dozen disgusting looking creatures, as they were most definitely not human, threw themselves towards the clearing, emitting guttural cries and yelps, brandishing antiquated looking bows and arrows and clubs. Jaq cursed the fact that their weapons were filled not with real ammunition but with paint bullets. They would sting and surprise these creatures but not kill.

She quickly rolled over Bulldog's body, the arrow cracking from his neck as she did so, and moved closer to Turkey and Razor. Jaq crawled on her belly behind the rocks they'd dropped down behind. She ordered them to fire at will and together Turkey and Jaq surged to their feet and began firing at the creatures. Arrows whizzed by and bounced off the rocks in front of them but they continued firing, peppering the attacking creature's bodies with splashes of color. The creatures yelped and barked in surprise, four of them falling back into the undergrowth, and two of them staying on the ground—those had been the ones she'd managed to blind with a shot directly to the eye.

Razor's grenade launcher had blanks, enough to emit smoke and a loud explosion. He launched one of the blanks into the thick of the creatures and Jaq took some satisfaction in their scattering—fearful of the noise and smoke no doubt. They were given no time for celebration however when just as the smoke cleared four of creatures returned, angrier than ever.

"Fall back!"Jaq wanted to order, but where in the hell were they supposed to fall back to? Her AAR assist lay dead in the middle of the clearing and before she could utter another order Razor let out a squelching sound and dropped to his knees, clawing at the arrow that'd sliced through his neck. Her M27 magazine empty now and all the extra "ammunition" was in Bulldog's pack, she was left with little to fight with other than her wits.

One of the creatures surged towards her over the rocks, his arm pulled back in a deadly arc that, had she not blocked the club with her machine gun, would've crushed her skull. Her fighting instincts kicked in and Jaq jerked her arm and used the butt of her gun to flatten the creature's nose. As it pulled back to cradle the wound, Jaq quickly dropped down, unsheathed her Ka-Bar from her thigh, and surged back to her feet, driving the knife hilt deep into the creature's eye socket. It dropped lifeless at her feet, black blood coating her arm and the ground around it.

Jaq ducked down when another creature came at her, armed with a club as well. She parried the club with her gun, the creature backing her further away from where Turkey was fighting his own battle with the other two still-standing creatures. This creature was taller, stronger, than the last and, as he'd seen her moves before with his "friend," was more leery of her gun. He was quick in his movements but Jaq noticed that he favored his left knee, perhaps an older injury. She allowed him to continue his attack until she felt a tree near her back.

As he pulled back to deliver another blow, Jaq allowed gravity to do its work. She dropped to her knees, the club hitting the tree where her head used to be, and used her elbow to lay a driving blow to the creature's kneecap, then rolled away before he could swipe at her again with his club. He dropped down in a crouch, allowing Jaq to have the upper hand. She kicked up with her leg, catching the creature in the face with her steel-toed combat boot, and then when the creature lay sprawled on his back she followed his motions with her body and drove her knife into his heart, or where his heart would be if his anatomy was anything like that of a human despite his grotesque outer appearance. His body sputtered and convulsed but then lay dead.

Jaq quickly jumped to her feet only to let out a pained cry when an arrow drove itself deep into her left thigh, causing her to stumble back down into a crouch. She looked up just in time to see Turkey fall dead by Razor's lifeless side—he'd already bled out from his own wound—and the last remaining creature who'd killed him notching another arrow to finish her off as well.

How had this happened, Jaq thought in the seconds before the arrow was to be let loose. How had a simple war game patrol shifted into the massacre of a fireteam? Jaq kept her eyes open, she wanted to stare death in the face, and watched the creature's hand pull back the bowstring.

Before he could release the arrow, Jaq heard, and felt, the whoosh of another arrow as it whizzed dangerously close by her head. The creature keeled backwards, the arrow and bow he'd been about to use against her falling useless at his side. Jaq looked over her shoulder to see four figures cautiously coming towards her, dressed in varying shades of green and grey outfits and all armed with bows—they reminded her of old Robin Hood TV shows and she felt the urge to laugh, quickly realizing that the blood loss from her thigh wound was making her giddy.

She didn't move from her position, especially when one of the figures, a man with long, white-blonde hair, drew up to her side, his arrow pointed at her head, while the other three moved towards her fallen comrades and the dead or stunned creatures. The man next to her quickly spoke and she could only blink at him. It was no language she'd ever heard before, and she could speak six. He continued to speak, his voice harsh and rumbling, and she shook her head to show she didn't understand. He didn't take his eyes from her as he addressed the others once she was able to convey her lack of comprehension.

Jaq heard two more yelps and looked over to see that one of the figures, another male, though he had black hair, had killed one of the creature's she'd earlier stunned, and was making ready to do the same with the other. The only female, a redhead, was moving towards Bulldog's body, her bow and arrow at the ready but not pulled back fully. The only other man, a brown haired one, seemed to be taking in the scene, silent and unmoving, from the middle of the clearing. They all had ridiculously long hair, long enough to make even the snobbiest of hippies proud-an image of the quartet sitting around smoking reefers had her near giggling again; the wound really was getting to her head.

She looked down and cautiously broke off the feathered tip of the arrow. Her thigh continued to seep, though the arrow head itself was keeping it from gushing. This didn't stop her from feeling woozy though and as gently as possible, considering she was at arrow-point, she shifted her position to sit down fully and take the weight off her wounded leg. She was completely unarmed now that her Ka-Bar had dropped from her hand—the arrow earlier had caused her to drop it; her only other knife was buried in her pack—that still hung heavily from her back—and even if she had her gun it'd be useless against these people.

The redhead was now leaning over Bulldog. Jaq watched as she nudged his body with her foot and Jaq had to fight the urge to curse at her. Her men deserved a proper burial, not to have their corpses kicked around by strangers. A wind suddenly picked up and because of it her hair waved about her head like mini snakes. Jaq sucked in a breath of shock when she noticed, for the first time, the woman's ears. With a quick glance, Jaq saw that all four of the people in the clearing had the same elongated ears. What the hell?! Was she hallucinating now too?

The man guarding her spoke again, this time his eyes moving from her towards the woman, and it sounded as if his patience was running out—Jaq hoped it wasn't his arm growing tired. Though she had no idea where the hell she was, who the hell these people were, and what the hell had happened, she wanted to live just like anyone else would. Situations could be adapted to, problems could be solved. She had no death wish. Her men deserved to have answers, their deaths deserved vengeance.

With this in mind Jaq finally spoke up, her voice low and gravely from the yelling she'd done earlier, "I mean you no harm." The man by her side snapped his head back towards her, his grip tightening on his bow. "I am unarmed. My men are dead. I am wounded. I can offer you no fight."

The brown haired man who hadn't taken action of any kind other than to stand in the middle of the clearing and stare at the mayhem, turned at the sound of her voice and carefully studied her. A moment passed, during which Jaq returned his silver-eyed stare with her own green one, before he spoke to the man at her side. His voice was softer, though just as firm, and Jaq felt that he could become an ally. The blonde man shook his head and gestured towards Jaq's knife but the redheaded female barked something in return from where she now crouched over Razor and Turkey and finally the blonde lowered his arrow and stepped away-she could still feel his distrust though. Jaq couldn't tell who the leader was, the brown headed man or the redhead, but she did get the feeling that one or both could be her ticket out of an early burial.

When the woman reached down and tugged at Razor's dog tags Jaq spoke up again, "That is his identification." She tugged at her own dog tags, though slowly, considering the man beside her tightened his grip yet again. "Please, don't take those." She dropped her hands and shook her head. "I need them to give back to his family." If she found a way back to them that was.

The woman looked over at Jaq a moment before she tugged the dog tags free of Razor's neck and then Turkey's. She called over her shoulder to the black haired man and Jaq watched as he bent down and pulled them free from Bulldog's body as well before tossing them to the redhead. Jaq tightened her hands into fists, not knowing if the woman had understood the importance of the tags or if she found shiny things appealing and wanted to keep them for herself.

Her unvoiced question was answered when the woman drew near and unceremoniously dropped all three dogtags into Jaq's lap. Jaq quickly clasped them in her gloved hand, her eyes full of questions. Had the woman understood her? She slowly worked the tags around her helmet until the too hung from her neck with her own. She gave the woman a curt nod of thanks.

"Do you understand me?" Jaq fought against the fatigue that now tugged at her mind, the adrenaline from the fight beginning to fade away and be replaced by weakness from her wound. "What is to happen now?"

The blonde man growled out a few more phrases before the brown haired man shook his head and came closer. He dropped down into a crouch and after a pause reached forward and poked at Jaq's thigh. She couldn't stop the wince, or recoiling from his touch, but she did manage to keep her moan of pain relatively hidden in her chest. She'd learned long ago not to show weakness, or pain, if at all possible. She had a mental escape she could go to, and had gone to before, if torture was applied. But this situation was unlike any before in her previous deployments. These people, if they could be called such, and the creatures that'd attacked them, they felt...other worldly.

The brown haired man seemed to smile at her bravado and after making a comment to the red haired woman and getting a grunt from her in return, he pulled out a flask from a small pouch attached to his belt and uncorked it. He held it out to Jaq, a strong, herbal smell wafting out of it and reaching her nose once it was close enough to her face. If it was poison perhaps it would be swift and Jaq would know nothing else. She wouldn't have to live with the guilt of her team's deaths, wouldn't have to live with the guilt that she'd yet again survived a firefight while her men had not—was she cursed so? This had been her third team since she'd first been deployed years ago and each previous team had suffered major casualties, either from death itself or debilitating wounds, while she'd survived them all with relatively few injuries.

The guilt and fear of a curse did not render her desperate though. She didn't want to die from poison and leaned her head back, staring down her nose at the flask and then the man. He sighed and quickly took a swig from it before he held it out to her again. Jaq wasn't an idiot; she knew that assassins could build up tolerances to poisons and so was not reassured that the man had drunk first. However, her throat dry and her wound draining her of life blood with each passing moment, Jaq threw caution to the wind and received the flask.

She cursed the fact that her hand shook slightly as she held the flask against her lips and drank from it. The liquid was cool and definitely resembled an herbal tea in taste. She didn't drink much, just enough to quench her thirst and appease the man before her, and quickly handed it back to him once she was finished. He nodded his head, gave her another small smile, and after a moment returned the flask to his pouch, speaking as he did so.

"We will remove the arrow once we reach the Elvin Halls."

Jaq blinked in surprise. She'd just understood him.

"Lasdir," the blonde man spoke up from beside her, "we cannot risk it. He is a stranger and has the looks of witchcraft about him. Tell him Tauriel," the blonde looked towards the redheaded woman, "that this cannot happen."

Jaq frowned; "he" is a stranger? Did they think she was a man? Granted, with all the gear on, any feminine curves she might've had despite her athleticism were well hidden. She did have a strong jaw line and a square chin that could be considered fairly masculine; her nose was crooked from previous fistfights, and the jagged scar that traveled from her hairline down across her left eyebrow—compliments of shrapnel on her last deployment—had narrowed down the playing field considerably over the years. Her helmet hid her auburn hair, cropped short to keep it out of the way, but surely she wasn't so far gone in looks that these strange creature/people would think she was a man. Was she?

"Thirischon, there is nothing bewitching about him." The brown haired man, Lasdir apparently, looked up at the blonde, Thirischon, with a wry smile. "He bleeds as all men bleed and though he is dressed strangely he has made no attempt to attack us. His companions are beyond our aid now but he may still survive."

"What good would it do him to survive now?" The black haired man stepped closer, his eyes still searching the forest around them, but his attention half on them. "He's trespassed upon our lands and that must be punished; his companions are dead and he has shamefully survived them."

"What man would not want to survive? Perhaps he has survived because he has yet to perform that which Valar requires of him." Lasdir spoke up again, his eyes coming back to rest upon Jaq. "He has trespassed upon our lands and in order to 'punish' him we had best take him back to the king for questioning. Though he appears to be not of our world, he still lives and as he is not a foe what good would it do us to leave him here, Orodion?" He glanced back at the black haired man as he finished and received a noncommittal shrug as an answer. "Perhaps our lord king would like to question him?" Lasdir directed this rhetorical sounding question to the woman Tauriel.

Tauriel circled around behind Jaq and when Jaq looked over her shoulder saw that the woman was studying her pack.

"Take this off him and empty it. If we are to take him back with us we must ensure that he has no more weapons."

Divested of her pack by the testy Thirischon, Jaq watched the creatures, she refused to call them elves despite their pointed ears and ethereal complexions, as they rifled through her pack. Soon the pile on the ground near her useless M27 and discarded Ka-Bar grew as they pulled out her extra AA batteries, her poncho and poncho liner, the ballistic goggles she insisted upon taking everywhere—even when she wasn't driving, her tool kit, flashlight, baby wipes, extra socks, and binoculars. Her other knife was pulled out last and she winced when Orodion dropped it on the ground beside her other one. It had been her grandfather's knife, from World War II, and though it had yet to bring her luck—unless her ability to survive thus far was luck—it was the only thing of value she kept with her in each deployment.

"There is nothing else, Tauriel." Orodion announced, dropping her empty pack beside her on the ground. "It grows late," perhaps he had an internal clock because the air around them had not darkened any more than when the fight had first begun in Jaq's opinion, "we should return."

Tauriel nodded, "Since you are so keen on giving him aid, Lasdir, you may escort him back to the Elvin Halls." She turned and started back in the direction they'd first emerged from, not bothering to look to see if the others were following.

Orodion quickly followed and after Thirischon gave Jaq another distrustful look he started off as well. Jaq moved slowly, reaching out towards the pile, and withdrew her grandfather's knife. Lasdir watched her movements with a blank stare but quickly gave her a smile when she kept it sheathed and handed it to him for safe keeping.

Curious if the drink had not only afforded her the ability to understand them but also the ability to speak to them in their own language Jaq spoke up again, "That was my grandfather's. I don't want to leave it."

Lasdir shook his head, as if to convey his own lack of comprehension, and Jaq sighed in defeat. She was grateful that Lasdir seemed so interested in her survival; she only wished that they'd arrived earlier. She kept her groans minimal as she dragged herself to her feet. Before she allowed Lasdir to lead her from the clearing she moved to Bulldog. She removed his helmet and placed it over his face then piled his hands atop his body. She moved to Turkey and Razor next and did the same. She was panting and sweating profusely by the time she was done with this and had to allow Lasdir to take her body weight when he offered his arm when she returned to his side. She hated leaving her men like this but she knew she shouldn't/couldn't push her luck with her captors/rescuers. Perhaps she would be granted the ability to return and give them a proper burial later.

"You won't be forgotten." She whispered to their corpses; the fear of being forgotten always one of the strongest to nag at the back of any man's mind.

Lasdir lead her away from her men then and deeper into the ravenous mouth of the dark forest.

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_A fireteam is a four-man Marine patrol unit. I've taken some liberties with changing around duties and proceedings of a Marine patrol however. I don't own any of The Hobbit characters or the world of Middle Earth, however all the other characters-that aren't mentioned in the movie/book-are original, as is this storyline. Let me know what you think; obviously I am like all other writers in that feedback fuels my creative fires._


	2. Arrival at the Elven Halls

Gifted with a grace she only felt during combat, the four figures-again she refused to call them elves-led her through the forest on a path that she could only barely distinguish as useable. Be it from her wound or from a quality in the air, there had been numerous times where, had it not been for Lasdir's support, Jaq would have surely fallen down the sudden crevices or tumbled over the twisted roots of the malicious looking trees. Tauriel said nothing of Jaq's impediment, but led the group quietly and quickly-perhaps it was she who was the leader of this make-shift fireteam of strangers; she certainly carried herself as a leader might. Orodion had said nothing as well but had instead crisscrossed the path numerous times, taking in every detail of their passing surroundings-most likely he was the equivalent to a rifleman. The bah-humbug Thirischon had kept up his distrustful glares all the while they'd traveled-she couldn't quite pinpoint what position he might've held had he been in her unit, aside from team naysayer. It had been Lasdir who'd managed to keep her moving still. He gave a few encouraging words here and there but didn't offer up conversation aside from that.

Jaq had had to stop more than a dozen times to catch her breath and clear her head. Her whole left side was throbbing now, and she was drenched in sweat and grime, her left pant leg covered in blood as it continued to seep around the arrow head; but at least she had not yet fainted. Lasdir had given her a few more swigs from his flask, tied off her thigh to slow down the blood flow, and after each gulp of the cool liquid Jaq felt a new energy course through her veins-she knew for a fact that whatever was in that flask, it was the only thing that was keeping her going; well that and Lasdir's strength.

They traveled for some time before the forest began to thin and now and again Jaq caught sight of what looked like evidence of "human" life springing up between the trees: a garden here, a shed there, as well as a cottage, or two or three. She'd spotted smoke coming from small chimneys but hadn't yet glimpsed any dwellers. The further they walked the more level the path became until it finally it resembled a true road and the going became much easier. The dwellings also began to cluster more and a few times Jaq almost thought she heard faint conversations but again never caught sight of the speakers.

They rounded a bend and with a startling suddenness, Jaq found that they stood opposite a stone entrance to what looked to be a great cavern fortress. A flat, stone bridge with no railing-another testament to the fact that these people must rarely trip-crossed over a swift flowing river, the rapids surging a stark white against the black stones. Massive columns supported what looked to be an outcropping of a limestone mountain. Twisting, turning, and gripping roots from ancient trees spilled over the outcropping and wrapped around the entrance like the embrace of an old friend. The brightness of the rock was muted by grey and green lichen that splattered across its base. Five faded blue doors barred their way once they were safely over the bridge; the doors jutted high up until they met with the living rock from which the columns were ornately carved from.

Tauriel spoke quickly with the guards when they stood just outside the middle, and highest, door. After a moment, during which Jaq felt another wave of fatigue course through her, the guards stepped aside and the doors slowly swung open. Tauriel quickly entered, the shadows from the cavern entrance engulfing her like a ravenous beast. Lasdir readjusted her weight from where she basically hung from his shoulder before he started forward as well. Jaq struggled as much as she could to keep on her own feet but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

Once inside Jaq was almost glad the wound made the going slow for her. Breath was stolen from her body at the sight of the great hall; it was almost too much to take in at once and she took to blinking rapidly. Jaq noticed that a branch of the river flowed beneath the arched bridges even within the cavern itself, snaking its way through the voluminous hall, before it disappeared beneath the rocks again. Natural light from latticework carving in the stone ceiling filtered its way down to light the dozens of zigzagging pathways, dipping down or leading upwards, always off into shadows and mystery. Lamps of what looked to be molten gold hung from the ceilings or were perched against the columns, providing further ambient lighting, and leading Jaq to feel that the balance between light and dark was carefully monitored here-whatever could lead the visitor into a state of awe would be used.

All around the limestone glistened and gleamed, the majority of the columns polished into a sheen, while the supporting boulders and rocks closer to the river were left to be overcome with moss and lichen, providing a soft green hue to the otherwise grey and white surroundings. On occasion, thrusting their way down through the rock, gigantic roots wound themselves around pillars or across the rivers and bridges, providing further access to other areas of the cavern, and giving a change of color and texture. Despite what felt to be an excessive amount of stone work, the hall could not be considered cold. In fact, as Lasdir practically dragged her down more steps and across another bridge, Jaq felt her internal fears begin to lessen. Perhaps it was the cold moisture that often accompanied a cave nestling itself in her lungs, or the gurgling of the river below echoing in her ears, or the near perfect balance between man and nature that seemed to exist here.

Tauriel paused in her movements just long enough to bow her head to a tall man, of regal bearing, his hair a white-gold. He leaned closer to her before he passed by and they spoke quickly, in hushed tones, before he nodded and moved past. As he moved by Jaq his expression changed to open disdain, though curiosity also warred with the disdain. He didn't stop long though and soon he moved by and Jaq was again left to Lasdir's dragging. Whatever the cause, Jaq got the feeling that the people of these parts did not take kindly to people who looked like her-or regular humans. Bad blood of some sort had passed between them and knowing her luck she'd get the brunt of something she'd never even known about.

Of course, as was often the case, the feeling of peace was fleeting. With the appearance of the regal snob-blonde, and as Lasdir followed Tauriel up what seemed to be the last dozen steps, Jaq began to feel an ominous air close in around her. She'd always had a good "sixth sense" of feelings/airs-the fight in the woods earlier was a rarity for her-and so Jaq knew that whoever awaited her at the top of the steps would spell out her life or death. Her lungs were burning now, from exertion and the thinness of the air, and it was with pained gasps that she followed after Lasdir, her weight upon his shoulders growing with each passing moment.

They were still five or six steps from the top landing when she first caught sight of the man, if he could be called a man, sitting like a demi-god upon his intricately carved wooden throne-an extension from a gigantic root that had centuries before made its way through the stone ceiling and twisted its way to its current position. Silver, white, gleaming, glistening, blinding: all these words surged to the forefront of her mind at once as her eyes began to take in the details of his form. He would be taller than her, she could tell from the lankiness of his legs, one casually crossed over the other-pale leggings tight enough to reveal sinewy muscle beneath, and his arms draped over the edges of his arm rests-the pale, embroidered tunic, almost resembling an Indian sherwani, cascaded around his arms and torso like a flood of fabric. Upon his head was a tall crown, brown and covered with leaves and flowers that befitted the season. His hair hung like silver-gold water around his shoulders, pulled back from his face with a series of delicate braids that on him looked not the least bit feminine-in many ways he resembled the earlier snob-blonde and Jaq couldn't help but wonder if they were related.

The longer she was in his presence, or because of her wound and blood loss, the stronger the chill that ran up and down her spine. As they approached across the landing before his throne, she watched as he languidly spoke in soft tones with a comely female who stood nearest his throne; from the way her cheeks blossomed into a red hue and her hands clasped tightly together before her waist, Jaq got the feeling that he was flirting with her, or something akin to it-perhaps requesting her nude form in his bed later...and that thought only made Jaq shiver again, though for an entirely different reason than before.

Tauriel stopped just shy of the last step that led down from the throne itself. She bowed her head and Jaq watched as Orodion and Thirischon quickly followed suit, standing just behind Tauriel on either side of her body. Lasdir came up last and it was as he drew her directly behind Tauriel that the demi-god/king finally waved his hand and the female slipped away, her blushes even stronger than before. His face held no hint of an expression, other than bored alertness, as he studied their group, his eyes barely straying in her direction.

"What have you to report?" His voice rumbled like a river falling down the mountain, like a stone rolling through a stream, like the bubbling of silver out a cauldron. Another shiver whispered its way through her body and Jaq closed her eyes for a moment to fight the desire to sway-her wound must really be getting to her, as she'd never gone weak in the knees over a voice before.

"King Thranduil, we were on the hunt for the nest of the Giant Spiders when we heard strange sounds; we were near the Narrows when this happened. The sounds were much like explosions and sharp cracks, nothing that I've ever before. When we tracked it down we found this man," Tauriel turned and pointed towards Jaq and again Jaq heaved a sigh of defeat-she wasn't THAT ugly-though she kept her mouth shut, "his three companions were already dead, attacked by a band of Orcs. I slew the last Orc standing while Orodion ensured that the others were similarly dead."

The king's right hand momentarily flexed then relaxed again, the only sign that the news had perturbed him. "Were there any signs of other Orcs? Have there been further reports of them encroaching so close upon our lands?"

Jaq's attention span wavered as Tauriel, as well as Thirischon, replied in what Jaq considered entirely too much detail. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing, on keeping her leg muscles stiff enough to remain standing. If they could just cut through all this crap she knew nothing about and get to the part where she would either live or die that'd be just grand.

"And so what of this man?" The king's lips tugged in an almost smile, something obviously amusing to him, once his eyes fell fully upon Jaq. Her fatigue gave her the excuse to not squirm under the intensity of it. If it was at all possible to be picked apart molecule by molecule by a mere gaze, then this man had the ability to do it. "You said his companions were already slain when you came upon them?"

Tauriel nodded, "He speaks an unfamiliar language, my king, and as you can see," she gave Jaq a once over before looking back towards the king, "he is clad in attire that I've never seen before in all my years."

Jaq studied the lack of wrinkles around Tauriel's eyes and guesstimated that the woman was around 25 or 28 at the most-she most likely hadn't been around the block, so to speak. In fact, they all looked ridiculously young, vigorous, and entirely too good looking for their own good. Did these guys find the fountain of youth, and a weird plastic surgeon to alter their ears at the same time? Jaq's wavering thoughts were broken when Lasdir moved forward at the prompting of the king, dragging her along with him. The lack of warning caused her to put too much weight on the wounded leg and the surprising rush of pain had her head spinning. She grasped at air before she tumbled to her knees, the shock of the impact wrenching a guttural groan from her lips. Lasdir bent by her side, and from the way that he put his hands back upon her shoulders to haul her back up again, Jaq got the feeling that he was trying to apologize for his part in her stumble.

Jaq reached up and unclipped her helmet. She pulled it from her head and let it clink to the ground beside her, welcoming the movement of air across her scalp and the freedom it gave her neck. She heard a strange noise, almost a gasp, come from Lasdir and looked over to see surprise registering on his face. She gave him the closest thing to a smile her body could conjure up at this point-it wasn't his fault she lacked more feminine qualities aside from her auburn hair and, with the flak vest gone, her average chest size. Modern uniforms were made to be as sexless as possible and apparently they'd done the job in this place. She gave a curt nod to confirm Lasdir's unvoiced question and this time, when his hands returned to her shoulders-he'd drawn them back earlier in surprise-there was a gentler quality to the hold he put on them.

"I see that SHE is injured." The king's voice wrapped itself around her mind and she felt her eyes flutter from exhaustion. "If the arrow was poisoned then we may expect the fever and death shortly." Jaq opened her eyes and looked up, up, up towards where the king still sat, his lips again tugging into an almost smile-the quality of it unwelcoming and cruel. "If it was not, then we will have more time during which to question her audacity to trespass upon our lands."

"What would you have us do with her, my king?" Lasdir spoke up, though he made no move to stand again, his hands still firmly resting on Jaq's shoulders.

The king gave Jaq another calculating stare before he answered, "Remove the arrow, stop the bleeding, and then put her in a cell. We have other pressing matters to attend to and cannot spare the time for such trivial matters. As her companions are dead I doubt anyone will be missing her anytime soon."

Jaq had not the energy to mutter a "fuck you very much," however much she wanted to-he wouldn't have understood anyway. Lasdir helped her to her feet and, after a moment, two more guards stepped forward and took her from Lasdir's arms. They weren't nearly as gentle or caring as they led/dragged her from the throne room. Lasdir kept up behind them but said little as they traveled further and further into the caverns. They turned too many times and crossed too many similar looking bridges for her to memorize the pathway back out again-not that she'd be able to successfully escape wounded thusly, and with so many guards milling about. She still tried to keep track of some of the major markers, just in case-her training hadn't failed her completely.

After some time they arrived in what Jaq assumed to be their version of a hospital wing. There were rows and rows of vials and drying herbs, and off to the side it looked to be a garden of sorts situated in the very heart of the cavern system, sunlight streaming down from the strategically placed holes in the ceiling. The thought of finally finding aid made the last of Jaq's strength leave her and without warning her legs gave out. The guards, thankfully, expected as such and held her upright as they dragged her the last of the way to what looked to be a makeshift cot, carved out of stone.

"Aelion." Lasdir looked up to greet a short-at least compared to the rest of the folks Jaq had seen in this area so far-though handsome man as he moved from around one of the shelves into full view. His robes were a deep turquoise embroidered with a light blue. "The king wishes for you to see to this woman's leg."

Aelion's hair was slightly curly, another notable difference considering everyone else looked to visit the salon daily their hair was so straight. The color of it was also not as bright or as distinct as the others. Dirty blonde, Jaq decided, would be the best descriptor for his hair color, and grey was the color of his eyes. From his movements and the way he immediately set about cutting away the fabric of her trouser's, without words or disdainful looks, Jaq got the feeling that he was like Lasdir: kind.

"Orcs." Aelion stated after he got a good look at the black arrow in her leg. "It was not poisoned, or else there'd be black trails in her skin traveling out from the wound." His fingers whispered over her skin as he spoke. "It is nearly through the leg. I will have to push it through to avoid further damage to her muscles." Aelion stepped away and pointed to the corner. "Fetch me that stool to prop her leg on," one of the guards moved to do his bidding, "Lasdir fetch me some dried Niphredil root and Seregon blossoms. Mix it with honey wine until it creates a poultice that we will put on her wound," Lasdir disappeared amongst the shelves to find the items, "you, stoke the fire and cleanse the knives," the other guard quickly moved off as well.

As each man fell into place with his bidding, Aelion had Jaq re-situated with her left let braced on the stool, her thigh hovering between it and the cot. She remained silent for a bit longer, at least until Aelion moved and came back with what looked to be a small hammer-most likely to drive the arrow clean through her leg with. Once he stood by her cot and waited for the other guard and Lasdir to return Jaq reached out and touched his wrist, just enough to get his attention. His eyes held open curiosity, and some warmth, when he settled them on her.

"Thank you." She said slowly, hoping that if he didn't understand the words he'd at least understand the sentiment.

Instead of nodding in reply Aelion frowned, "She does not speak Westron?" He looked up to Lasdir once he returned. "Does she understand us?"

"I believe she may," Lasdir gestured towards Jaq's responding nod, "though I am unsure of why she has come to understand us but we may not yet understand her. Do you think it to be a curse?"

Aelion leaned forward and before Jaq could protest he placed his hand upon the crown of her head, his fingers digging into her scalp in a firm but not exactly uncomfortable way. Without meaning to, her eyes slid closed and she relaxed into his touch. It felt as if her mind were splayed open, like a book fallen to the floor and a breeze shifting through its pages. A movie on fast-forward was her life as it whirled by in her mind-called up not by Jaq but by the same unexpected "desire" that had told her to close her eyes. It was as she remembered the fight with the, Orcs were they?, that the thought that Aelion was controlling her mind came to her. As soon as the thought came, Aelion's grip lessened and Jaq's eyes opened.

She stared up at the man who stared back at her in shock and the closest thing she'd seen to fear since she'd first come here-wherever here was. It seemed that he was just as frightened by her sudden arrival as she. Aelion shook his head as if to clear it then reapplied pressure to his grip on her head. Jaq, for whatever reason-perhaps enchantment-didn't feel fear towards what he was doing to her. There was a quality about his touch, his voice, that had put her at ease and reassured her. Now that he was playing hopscotch in her brain, Jaq figured that had either been a good gamble or a costly one.

Somewhere, in a deep corner of her mind, she felt something stir. Her eyes fluttered and closed again as the stirring grew. It was almost painful, like a pressure building, swirling darkness that was creating light. It lasted but a moment, but when Aelion withdrew his hand from her head, the feeling remained and it took a few moments more before Jaq was able to open her eyes. Aelion looked tired now, a sheen of sweat dotting his brow. Lasdir drew closer, his concern for both Jaq and Aelion marring his otherwise perfect features.

"Aelion, are you well?" Lasdir took Aelion's arm and cradled it against his chest in an almost affectionate way-it made Jaq wonder if homosexuality was taboo or accepted here.

Aelion nodded to Lasdir then turned his attention back to Jaq, "You have come very far have you not?" He was giving Jaq a calculated look, like that of a teacher waiting for his pupil to give the right answer.

Jaq felt that space in her brain tickle as she opened her mouth to reply, "Yes." The words sounded foreign and yet familiar to her and it seemed that they surprised Lasdir just as they reassured Aelion. Whatever he'd done with her brain had apparently rendered her capable of simple communication.

"What is your name?" Aelion spoke again, his fatigue falling away in light of clinical curiosity.

"Jaquelin Adriana Da Cunha," her brain didn't tickle as she said her name in the familiar English. When it looked as if their tongues wouldn't wrap around it she smiled and said simply, "Jaq."

"Jaq," Aelion moved closer, "with your permission I will remove the arrow."

Jaq nodded and began to brace herself, "Thank you." Her brain tickled again though not as much as the first time.

Aelion signaled the guards who took up position by Jaq's arms while Lasdir held both her legs down. Aelion spared Jaq one more look of almost apologetic sympathy before he brought the hammer down upon the arrow shaft. White, hot pain seared up her body from her leg and with a sharp cry Jaq fell into darkness.

* * *

_I've obviously taken liberties with the abilities of some of the Elves in this story. As Galadriel had the power of telepathy and many of the Elves were noted for having near intoxicating looks and hypnotizing powers in the books, and in the movies always had the near annoying soft lighting around them, I put this together and created the ability for healers, or the well trained, to be able to manipulate the mind and/or read it. Hopefully it paid off and will continue to do so. Let me know what you think._


	3. Meddlesome Elves

He dismissed the band of scouts with a wave of his hand and sunk further into his throne with a sigh. Thranduil had no interest in prolonging the tediousness of repetitive reports. It seemed that each so called "new" report in recent months was horrendously similar to the previous: an increase in spider numbers—their webs and attacks making travel and trade difficult; the ominous darkness further encroaching upon their forest—sending even the most stout of heart into reflective wonderment of the last age when darkness had fallen so deeply across the land; the race of men growing in numbers and with that growth their greed for land and wealth increasing as well, making the skirmishes between his own kin and people with the men more frequent. It was all the same as before.

The only relatively new thing Tauriel and her men had had to report was the arrival of that strange man-woman-creature, whom they'd dragged in with them upon their return. Thranduil had known immediately that there was more to the "creature" than what met the eyes—he was not himself a master of illusion for naught. Despite the wound and the fatigue of such a long trek, the "creature" had been solid on "its" feet and surprisingly had not cowered beneath his stare. The apparent lack of comprehension of the importance of "its" surroundings and the people in it, or of the direness of the situation which the "creature" was now in, had all intrigued Thranduil and when "it" had removed "its" helmet he'd understood.

A woman, clad in man's garb—and strange ones at that—and fairly masculine in appearance, but a woman nonetheless, the "creature" had turned out to be. He had reprimanded Tauriel and her men for their lack of observation; for something as simple as the "creature's" sex to have been so overlooked made him question just what else they overlooked. She'd not protested her arrival or handling, even if she had understood their speech-her eyes had been quick to follow their line of communication as she had understood. There'd been a resolute quiet about her that Thranduil had rarely seen in the race of men, let alone a female of their race. There was indeed something different about this female, and he welcomed the change.

Her arrival was the most entertaining occurrence since-Thranduil frowned as he thought-well since some time had passed. He had craved something new, had even begun the sweet and achingly familiar dance of seduction with the delectable elfe, Miluiel, as a way of entertainment—he hadn't taken to the dance in some time but was far from out of practice, if her blushes and coos of admiration were any indicator. The last elfe he'd bothered to "dance" with had long since moved on to the halls of his distant kin in Lothlórien, married to some captain of the guard named Haldir, and since her he'd felt little desire to take up with another. In recent months, however, there'd been a restlessness inside him and he knew well that that restlessness needed to be dealt with or else-

"King Thranduil." Thranduil looked up to see Aelion and Lasdir approaching. They stopped just shy of the last step and he waved them closer. "We have done as you bid. The woman's wound has been tended to and she is now resting in a cell below. Her wound should be healed enough to move around on her own within a few weeks, and within a month she should be able to depart, if that is your will." Aelion continued. "My lord, the woman, a warrior in her own right as Lasdir witnessed and I myself deduced, is not of our world."

Thranduil smirked, "Aelion, when I want to be amused with a jest I will tell you. Do not waste my time by stating the obvious."

"Sire," Lasdir stepped forward slightly, "as Aelion looked after the woman's wound he was able to read her."

Thranduil clenched his fists and leaned forward, his attention fully centered on the next that Aelion would have to say. He knew well the powers Aelion had of reading one's mind and heart, powers similar to the great Lady Galadriel. Whatever Aelion saw, or felt, Thranduil knew it could be trusted, yet he found it irksome that the gifted elf healer had read the woman without consulting him first.

"My lord, within this woman I sensed a deep seated loyalty to the men she lost and to the powers she fought for. She has faced many battles and it is due to her abilities as a fighter that she has survived. Her mind does have a darkness in it, though not of the kind that has begun to lurk on our borders. Her darkness is what every warrior faces, the darkness of surviving while others are lost." Aelion paused in thought and only continued when Lasdir gently nudged his arm. "Sire, I found no connections to any people of Arda within her. She is of the race of man but not any of those we know in Arda. When I said she is not of our world I meant it in a very literal sense. She has come here by means that neither she nor myself understand. She has no knowledge of how to return to her world and for as long as she is in our own she has no kin."

Thranduil nodded and leaned back on his throne once more. No better than an orphaned warrior, no worse than a female. What use had he of such a creature? His land was plentiful and they were in want of nothing, thus one more mouth to provide for would not be felt. Was he to shelter her, this stranger, until her wound healed and then send her out into the wilds of a land foreign to her in every way? He had seen the way she'd found their appearance both frightening and curious, as if she'd never known of their existence. From her garb, the way she'd carried herself, he had well known that she did not fit precisely within a hierarchy currently known in the world.

As he found her presence entertaining he knew already he would permit her to stay, for as long as it took her heal at least. But what was she to do though? The entertainment he could gain from her presence would be lost if he kept her in the dungeons. He'd seen the way Thirischon had sneered at her, the disdain for her a powerful aura about his personage. Yes, if he allowed the woman to stay he would most definitely have to have her move about the castle, see if any entertaining altercations could be orchestrated.

"My lord," Aelion's voice brought him back and he lifted an eyebrow to indicate he was listening, "there is one more thing."

When he didn't immediately indicate what it was Thranduil frowned, "What is it?"

"Her name is Jaq, sire."

"And how," Thranduil felt the frustration he'd set aside earlier in light of Aelion's meddling come back full force, "do you know the woman's name?"

Aelion clasped his hands together in front of his body and averted his eyes towards the ground as he spoke, "As I read her I gifted her with knowledge of our language. In order to fully understand where she came from and what she was doing here, my lord, I felt that she would need to-"

"YOU felt?" Thranduil interrupted, his voice a growl. "Since when was it decided that my subjects may take such drastic measures as this without first consulting their king?" He stood up and started down the steps of his throne. "This is not the first time, Aelion ind Eluchil, that you have overstepped." He moved closer until he towered over the shorter elf. "As memory serves me, the last time you meddled so intimately with another's mind you rendered them unable to communicate for a fortnight. Before that you nearly sent a young elfling into the halls of healing for her irrational fear of shadows." He moved again, this time so close that the toes of his slippers touched Aelion's boots. "Until you learn exactly where your place is, and what may be done without my consent, I cannot abide having you within my court." He stepped back and watched carefully for any indication of dissent from the elf before him. "You will leave this very day, go to the halls of your kin on the plains, and you will not return until I call for you."

Aelion bowed his head further and placed his hand over his heart, "Yes my lord king, I will do as you say." At Thranduil's sigh he bowed further and edged backwards until he could move down the steps and only then did he turn around.

Thranduil turned his gaze upon Lasdir, "You, Lasdir, will serve as this woman's keeper for the duration of her time here. Once she awakens you will move her to the quarters adjacent to yours. You will oversee her work as she tends to the gardens of the healing halls, you will escort her to the kitchens where she will work for the food she will consume, and you will be nearby for anything else she is tasked to do. You will never let her wander off on her own." Lasdir bowed and shifted on his feet as if he too were about to leave. Thranduil spoke again to stop him. "Know this, Lasdir, that she is expendable in every way; should something unexpected occur there will be no sacrifice made to ensure her safety. She is neither guest nor is she prisoner. We are neither hosts nor are we jailors. Is that understood?"

"Yes my lord king." Lasdir bowed again and from his stance Thranduil knew that the elf truly did understand.

He dismissed him then and returned to his throne. The woman, Jaq as Aelion had named her-strange name-could prove useful should they have another run-in with the men of Lake Town or even-Thranduil smirked-be helpful in luring the spiders to their demise. Expendable in every way, and yet just as entertaining.

* * *

Lasdir caught up to Aelion at the gates. He'd forgotten how fast Aelion could be when he felt the need; typically he took his time in everything: movement, answering questions, even sleeping and eating. Banishment by the king, apparently, set his feet moving faster than normal. He took in his friend's single satchel of belongings, the well used walking staff, and the small blade strapped to his side-the wrong side given his dominant hand. Aelion was no fighter, had rarely been needed on the battlefield within his many years, and his garb spoke true of this fact.

"I will stay for a while with my sister's husband's kin on the river plains," Aelion readjusted the weight of his satchel, "then I will move on to Doriath to see after my mother."

Lasdir nodded, "I will look after the woman and the healing halls in your absence."

Aelion nodded. It looked that he had more to say but he felt not the comfort to say it while standing within the halls. He made eye contact with Lasdir before he moved out of the gates and onto the bridge, Lasdir closely following. It wasn't until they stood on the opposite side of the bridge that Aelion spoke again.

"Lasdir, this woman Jaq, there is something more." He glanced over his shoulder towards the darkening forest then back towards the gates. "I know that she will be instrumental in protecting the realm from the encroaching darkness. In what way I am not certain but the things that she knows already, her skills and her strengths, they may be honed further and put to use when the time comes."

"Why did you not tell King Thranduil about this?"

"Our lord king, though at times benevolent, may not have taken kindly to my further 'meddling' with such statements regarding the future. I believe that he is wise enough to discern where she will be most useful, and when." Aelion turned to face the path. "While he may not yet comprehend the immensity of what her presence here spells out for us all, with enough time he may well come to the same conclusion as I." He reached out and Lasdir quickly clasped his hand within his own. "May Tulkas give you strength and Eru his protection."

"May Varda watch over you on your journey." Lasdir squeezed his friend's hand then stepped away. "We will meet again before the journey to Aman."

Aelion nodded, giving Lasdir another warm smile, then quickly started off down the path. Lasdir worried not for his friend journeying alone as he was. Aelion had a similar way with beasts that he did with his own kind, and apparently man as well. The spiders would be in their webs, fattened from their feasts of the afternoon by now, and the path should be clear of any other foul creatures.

Lasdir waited until Aelion's form disappeared from view before he returned to his post by Jaq's side. She slept on, her face relaxed into an almost pleasant looking expression. Now that he knew her to be female, and with the discretion to study her without her knowing, Lasdir carefully took in her form. He remembered that she'd been as tall as he, and only slightly lighter in weight. He could tell that the weight she carried was primarily from musculature and not excessive softness. Her squarish stature and the firm set of her jaw gave her a commanding presence, the scar on her face and the slanted nature of her nose only added to this. Her eyes and her hair were the only feminine qualities Lasdir could out rightly notice-though he could tell that she had not the hips or endowment of chest that most elfens or females from Lake Town had. Her eyes, he remembered, had gold and brown splashes against a backdrop of grey, and her hair was a deep russet. Had it been longer, and not cropped short to barely touch her ears, Lasdir assumed that her hair could've been considered a redeeming quality.

When he'd first seen her in the clearing he'd thought there was something off about the "man". Despite his strength and skill at fighting-they'd seen the last of the fight right before Orodion had finished off the last Orc-there had still been a strange near vulnerability circling around his shoulders that had beckoned to Lasdir. He had surprised himself when he'd offered the "man" a drink from his own flask, though now Lasdir understood well why he had. The lack of apparent fear in the face of such unknowns-including Thirischon's arrow at her neck-and the loyalty that had made her hesitate leaving her men, these qualities, in Lasdir's mind, more than made up for her lack of beauty. Even before Aelion has told him of her importance and otherworldly characteristics, Lasdir had comprehended them. Even if Thranduil had not assigned him to her side, Lasdir would have still sought her out.

Jaq moaned in her sleep and one of her hands crept up from her side to grasp at the silver medallions hanging around her neck. She had demanded them from Tauriel and he'd noticed how she'd tensed as if to attack when Tauriel had hesitated in handing them over. They must be of some significance in regards to her men. She'd had not the luxury to bury them before they'd brought her here and with the drought of sleeping potion Aelion had given her earlier it would be some time before she woke again. Lasdir stood and with one last look at Jaq, her hand still holding onto the medallions, left. She may not be able to bury her men but he would see to it. If Aelion's readings were true, and she truly had no other kin or connections beyond that of her dead men, then he would spare her the pain of leaving them unburied.


	4. An Elfin Hell

"Does that happen often?

Jaq looked up from where she knelt in the herb garden, her knuckles white as her fingers clutched deeply into the dark earth. She blinked Lasdir's figure into focus, the last bits of the memory easing its command from the forefront of her brain. She'd been twelve years old again, her father drunk in front of the TV, her mother high in her bedroom, and her little sister's cowering behind her as she'd foolishly stood up to the crooked cop who'd come looking for her deadbeat brother. If she really focused she could still taste the blood in her mouth from where he'd struck her, could still feel his hands ripping at her clothes as he'd demanded "payment" for leaving her brother alone.

Jaq swallowed past the scream she'd barely kept lodged in her throat moments prior, "Does what happen often?" Lasdir merely looked at her in accusatory silence until Jaq sighed and sat up, careful not to jostle her leg too much. "Usually I can control myself better until the memory passes," the part of her brain that Aelion had messed around with still tickled on occasion when she spoke their language but she'd grown fairly used to it by now, "but since coming here I can't always know when they will happen or what will trigger them. I used to know all the triggers but there are so many new things here," she picked up her discarded trowel and noted that even it was different in its design, weight, and use, "I find myself caught off-guard more often than normal."

"These memories," Lasdir reached down unbidden and helped Jaq stand to her feet, "they are unpleasant?"

Jaq resisted the urge to laugh at him and his ignorance; he hadn't been privy to her memories as Aelion had been and so didn't know the horrors she'd been a victim of, had to witness, or had to commit.

"Yes, they are very unpleasant. Most of them are combat memories but some," she gratefully accepted the make-shift cane he'd fashioned for her earlier, "some are memories of my family."

"Would not memories of your family be pleasant ones?" Lasdir asked as together they moved towards one of the benches that lined the edge of the herb garden.

"You obviously never met my family if you thought that." Jaq snorted, sinking down onto the bench with another sigh. "Don't get me wrong, there were pleasant times infrequently enough in my family, but for the most part, well, I'd rather not spend time remembering any of them. As soon as I was able, I left what was left of my family and joined the military and never looked back."

Jaq had explained a little of whom she was—he'd asked if she was a warrior after all—and the type of lifestyle she'd lived prior to her arrival. She had not gone into detail on her family or personal life, she rarely did that even with her friends; in fact, this was the first she'd really spoken of her family in years.

When Lasdir spoke up again he was pointing to a long stemmed flower blooming closest to them, "That is alfirin. Its medicinal qualities include easing of stomach pains, quieting of a tumultuous mind, and a reduction of swelling within the joints."

Jaq figured that Lasdir was, in his own way, trying to distract her from the memory and so played along, "All that from one flower?"

"Oh no," he smiled, "'all that' from the whole plant. You see the flower petals and its seed pod, brewed in hot water and served with honey, are what helps the joints. The leaves crushed into a powder and ingested with the leaves of its sister-flower, salfirin, are what quiet the stomach pains. And the root, roasted until the insides are syrupy, is what helps the mind." Lasdir leaned back and studied Jaq for a quiet moment before he spoke again, "Would you care to try some?"

It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse the offer when in the distance she heard the bells. It'd taken some time to get used to them. On the third hour, bells near the front gate were rung, signaling the changing of many things: the guards, the hand maidens and stewards to the nobility, the cup bearer to the king, and etcetera.

Lasdir had taken great pains to explain quite a number of things to her, including but not limited to the bells. In the week since she'd first arrived, Jaq had had the names of the monarchial family recited to her, along with a number of other noble houses and their connections—she didn't even bother trying to keep them all straight; she figured knowing the king's name and his son's name was enough, and could help her avoid both of them. She'd been shown a hand-drawn map of Thranduil's realm and a few of the surrounding territories and realized that she was in quite an extensive world-quite likely as extensive as her own.

Inadvertently, during the geography lesson, she'd gleaned the notion that elves—she hated calling them that but the fact of the matter was that they were indeed elves—and men were on less than friendly terms much of the time. Elves looked down upon men—that explained a lot of the malicious disdain she received from any elves she happened to encounter outside of Lasdir's watch—and men distrusted elves because of their supposed "apathy" towards the fate of others outside their race.

Lasdir had also explained what Orcs were and why they had attacked her and her men without provocation. He'd discussed a great number of other "creatures of the night" as she'd come to think of them, but she couldn't keep all the names straight. Knowing that these creatures were encroaching further and further upon Thranduil's realm with each passing year, coupled with the tentative treaty with the territory of men, explained a lot of what she'd once thought was ungrounded paranoia on the part of King Thranduil.

Jaq rolled her shoulders to get rid of their sudden stiffness and replied, "I believe I will have some."

She frowned at Lasdir's hand when he offered it to help her up and instead used her own strength, and the helpful cane, to pull herself up onto her feet. She knew that Lasdir found her stubborn self-reliance fascinating, if not at times frustrating, but he rarely fought her in regards to it. So long as she remained in the areas he'd instructed her to be in when he couldn't readily observe her, and thus far that was restricted to the herb garden and the kitchens, he never hindered her attempts to get around on her own.

When he could be by her side, he escorted her around the cavern fortress, explaining different tapestry stories, pointing out cultural achievements, and in general—in her opinion—attempted to make a good, elfish impression on her. She couldn't fault him for that of course; she had no idea how a man or woman of this world would respond to a similar situation and could only assume Lasdir's efforts to make her prison-guesthouse seem comfy and positive were a reflection of how they might.

Following Lasdir back into the main healing hall—or med lab as it'd be called in her world—she watched carefully as he prepared the alfirin root for her. He'd explained that for the duration of her time in Thranduil's realm—and he had no definite answer to how long that'd be when she'd asked him—she was to learn the ways of the healing halls to help make up for Aelion's absence—dumbass move on Thranduil's part if he thought she could properly replace Aelion.

She was also to help in the kitchens each day, preparing for the evening feasts that the king liked to give. He often had visiting nobles, elfin vassals from the nearby steppes or distant seaside, and liked to show off his opulence with lavish feasts, complete with a nightly assortment of concerts, dances, or circus-like shows—none of the freak-show hokey stuff Jaq equated with circuses, but plenty of juggling and contorting and mock-fighting.

Jaq personally felt it was the king's way of compensating for something, either for the darker times ahead or for a darkness within him, but it definitely felt forced to her.

"How do I eat it?" Jaq tossed the still hot root between her hands once Lasdir handed it to her.

Lasdir smiled, "With your mouth."

Jaq tried to glare at him but failed and laughed quietly instead. It'd surprised her the first time, Lasdir's sarcasm, but now she found comfort in knowing she wasn't the only one who suffered from such a sense of humor.

"I mean, do I just eat it now or do I have to wait for it to cool off more or do I get honey or what?"

Lasdir continued to smile, "You may eat it as it is now." When Jaq shoved the whole thing, nearly the size of her palm, into her mouth he cautioned, "Though I should warn you the heat from the fire enhances the natural spice of the root."

Jaq began coughing almost as soon as Lasdir finished explaining and barely kept from spitting out the root altogether. Lasdir began to lightly pound on her upper back, holding onto her elbow with his other hand, as she quickly chewed at the horseradish tasting and ginger textured root. Spicy? Hell, this thing was going to put hair on her chest! She could feel her face turning red as tears began to weep from her eyes.

"Lasdir?" Both the still sputtering Jaq and Lasdir turned to see Tauriel hovering in the doorway. "What happened?"

"All is well, Tauriel; she merely ate the whole of an alfirin root before I could warn her of its spice."

Tauriel's lips quirked into a half-smile and Jaq could see through her spice-induced tears that the elfe's eyes danced with barely restrained amusement. Jaq figured the bitch should eat one too and see if she fared any better before she dared laugh at her.

"What brings you here Tauriel? Are you ill? Has there been an injury?" Lasdir let go of Jaq when she straightened and gave him a reassuring nod, her face still red though her coughing had abated.

"No, I am not ill nor has there been an injury." She laid one of her hands on the hilt of her dagger and with the other she gestured towards Jaq. "I've come with a proposition for the woman."

Jaq finished swallowing the cup of water Lasdir had retrieved for her, "'The woman' has a name." She mumbled around the rim of her cup. When Tauriel glanced her direction, she raised her head and matched the elfe stare for stare, "My name is Jaq."

"What is this proposition?" Lasdir quickly spoke up, as if to apologize for Jaq's rudeness.

Tauriel continued to stare at Jaq in a calculating though not exactly holier-than-thou way, "I have received approval from the king that this woman, Jaq, may attend to the repairs and cleaning required within the armory."

"Cleaning and repairing in the armory?" Jaq frowned. The idea of being around weapons again did give her a pleasant thrill, but the idea of merely cleaning and repairing them—whatever that entailed—was akin to a slap in the face.

"Yes," Tauriel continued, as if she couldn't easily sense Jaq's displeasure, "as Lasdir has been quick to remind me, you are a warrior," Jaq looked over at Lasdir in surprise—she hadn't know he'd spoken of her to anyone—though he did not return her look, "and as you are neither guest nor prisoner, as our king is also quick to point out, I believe this to be the simplest solution to your problem."

Jaq raised her eyebrows, "My problem?" She glanced over at Lasdir again. "I have a problem?"

"You chaff at your duties in the garden and I know you ate the alfirin root just now because you dread your duties in the kitchens." Lasdir took the empty cup from her hands and placed it on the nearest table. "Such mindless work, drastically different from the work you are accustomed to, could be part of the reason why your, episodes, are occurring so frequently."

Jaq stole a glance at Tauriel as Lasdir mentioned her episodes, but the elfe showed no outward sign of comprehension over their gravity and Jaq turned her attention back to Lasdir.

"You asked her if I could work in the armory." She didn't know if she was frustrated or grateful to the elf for this.

"I merely asked if there was any way you could assist her in the future, a way that would appease the restlessness within you." He rested a gentle hand upon her shoulder. "If I did this in error I ask your forgiveness."

Any frustration she may have felt melted in light of Lasdir's gentleness and she smiled back at him, "There was no error committed. I'm just surprised is all." She patted his hand before looking back towards Tauriel. "When would you need me to come?"

"Every morning before for the first set of bells until the third set," Jaq interpreted that as every morning from before 6am to noon, "after this I will bring you back to Lasdir where you will resume your duties within the healing halls."

Jaq scratched the back of her neck and then looked down at the scoop neck, velvety grey-green dress that hung like a sack from her body—if she'd had a busty chest or voluptuous hips the dress wouldn't look so bad but as she stood like a sturdy tree trunk with only the hint of a curvy waist and an average bust size it was less than lovely. She looked back to Tauriel with only a glimmer of hope allowed in the tone of her voice.

"Would I be granted leggings and a tunic to wear during my time in the armory? I think trying to repair or clean any type of weapon while wearing this," she gestured towards the offensive dress, "would only spell out another injury for me."

Tauriel's lips again quirked against the desire to smile and she nodded, "That can be arranged. I will have them brought to your quarters this evening after the feast."

At the mentioning of the feast Jaq groaned and slapped a hand against her forehead, "I'm going to be late!"

"Yes," Lasdir chuckled as he watched Jaq hike up the hem of the dress in order to limp, cane-aided, towards the door, "I have to finish here in the garden but I will fetch you once you are done." He turned to Tauriel, "If you are going in the general direction of the kitchens-"

"I will escort her as far as Glofirin's bridge." She finished with a small smile before she turned and followed Jaq out the door.

Jaq was still learning the names of all the halls, bridges, and corridors. They were all named after famed elfin lords or ladies, sometimes even past allies of other races—though there were only two such rooms and she resided in one of them. Glofirin's bridge was only a few meters away from the kitchens and was adjacent to the path that would lead Tauriel back to the king's hall. Still far from native understanding of where everything was, Jaq grudgingly appreciated Lasdir's escort whenever they ventured outside of her regular pathways and hoped he'd escort her in the morning, instead of leaving it to Tauriel.

They walked together in silence, the only other noise aside from their feet was the rhythmic tapping of her cane. At this hour most of the noble elves were either resting in their quarters, enjoying one the many natural hot springs situated throughout the cavern, employed in a board game of sorts, or playing some kind of instrument or another.

The regular elves—middle class in Jaq's mind—were going about their duties keeping the realm on its feet. Inside the cavern fortress there was general cleaning and upkeep to be had, answering the beck and calls of the nobles, cleaning and repairing of tools and weapons, and obviously work in the kitchens. Outside the cavern fortress, Jaq could only assume there were farmers, merchants, guards, and fighters on the "payroll" of the king.

"I," Tauriel's voice startled Jaq out of her thoughts and as a result her cane came down harder than before on the cobbled pathway, startling them both. After a moment's hesitation she resumed, "I never expressed to you my regret over the loss of your men."

Jaq's free hand immediately went up to touch her chest, where the dog tags of her fallen comrades hung together with her own beneath her dress, "Thank you." She didn't really know what else to say and so left it at that.

Thankfully they were spared any further discourse by their arrival at Glofirin's bridge. Tauriel gave her a nod of farewell before she turned away and left Jaq alone. She could clearly hear the kitchens at this distance and loathed her arrival. She knew she could only milk her injury as a cause of delay for so long before one of the elfe women came looking for her with murder on the mind.

"I know why your men died."

Jaq's head whipped around to find Thirischon leaning against the corridor wall smirking at her.

"What did you say?" Her grip tightened the head of her cane as she angled herself to face him more fully.

His smirk didn't falter as he replied, "I said I know why your men died."

_Curiosity may have killed the cat_, Jaq thought, _but the satisfaction of beating the shit out Thirischon brought it back, right_?

"Why did they die?" Jaq figured if she ended up in the dungeons from bludgeoning the elf to death she'd better be able to quote his nonsense as a type of self-defense.

"You fail as a leader on many counts, including your lack of timeliness, your poor fighting skills, and your inability to hold your temper in check." He slowly moved his gaze down to where her hand was turning white from its harsh grip on her cane. "To put it in terms that even you may comprehend with some effort, they died because of your failure as a leader."

Before Jaq could give in to her desire to break her cane over his head, they both turned at the sound of another man's voice. It was the white-blonde man who'd spoken to Tauriel on her first day: Legolas, the son of the king. Jaq ducked her head and did her best rendition of "docile female"—though she knew she failed miserably in both regards—as the regal elf approached.

"Are you not supposed to be on guard at the red manor, Thirischon?" The red manor was, for lack of a better word for it in her mind, the trading post of the realm. Legolas raised his head slightly and stared down his nose in a manner not unlike that of his father the king when Thirischon didn't immediately run away. "Is there some pressing matter existing between yourself and this woman that would cause you to be so lax in your duties?"

Thirischon had the good sense to nod his head sheepishly, salute Legolas in some fashion Jaq still didn't understand, then hurry off in the same direction Tauriel had disappeared in. Jaq studied the patterns of the cobbled pathway beneath her feet until Legolas spoke up again.

"It is not our custom to speak in such a manner to a guest."

Jaq looked up then and studied his not exactly apologetic but not exactly smug expression. Jaq nodded but offered no reassuring gesture to placate any discomfort Thirischon's actions may have caused Legolas himself.

"I am no guest here." She shifted her weight until she could relieve the building pressure on her wound. "I am an accidental trespasser who is no better than an amnesiatic orphan. My only option for survival, as I understand it, is to continue to trespass upon your father, the king's merciful graces until other options present themselves, after which I may relieve this kingdom of my presence." Legolas blinked in surprise at her words and she continued. "I believe Thirischon finds my presence no more pleasant than a number of others, perhaps yourself as well," Legolas frowned at this but she pressed on before he could respond, "but he, I trust, to never hide his opinion of me and so I can always know what to expect from him."

Legolas remained silent for a moment longer, his face a strange mixture of expressions, before he looked over her shoulder then stood to his full height and gave her a slight nod, "I will take my leave of you." He quickly moved past her, his shoulder rubbing against her own despite the fact that the corridor was plenty big enough.

Jaq looked over her shoulder and saw a flash of long, silver-white hair and the flap of an elaborately embroidered robe disappear around a corner, the same corner Legolas soon disappeared behind, and could only assume that it had been the king himself. _Making good impressions like always_, Jaq sighed and continued on into hell, also known as elfin kitchens before a feast.


End file.
